


Dinner

by deathtodickens



Series: Doodle Fic [1]
Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: Bering and Wells AU Week, F/F, doodlefic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-19
Updated: 2014-06-19
Packaged: 2018-02-05 09:23:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1813393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathtodickens/pseuds/deathtodickens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That one time Helena came up with an ingenious plan to “bring the spark back” into their marriage by suggesting they go on dates with other people at the same restaurant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dinner

**Author's Note:**

> This is what I like to call #doodlefic, a short fic based off of a doodle I drew for this year's AU week, which can be seen [here](http://deathtodickens.tumblr.com/image/88957255925). The drawing has partial doodle nudity...? So, possibly NSFW or school.

That one time Helena came up with an ingenious plan to “bring the spark back” into their marriage by suggesting they go on dates with other people at the same restaurant.  
  
Myka wasn’t really about that, but it had been a while for them and they were on the verge of metaphorically, and maybe literally, strangling one another. What with all the stress that was work and bills and the neighbor’s truant kids throwing shit in their backyard, like _actual_ dog shit, and the damn car giving them problems two days after the warranty had expired.  
  
So, yeah, she was willing to go out on this ridiculous limb for Helena because if Pete had suggested ONE MORE GODDAMN TIME that he would gladly offer up his “services”, whatever those may be, both Myka and Helena would have been on trial for homicide.  
  
"We need an out." Myka suggests.  
  
They’re already in the car and Myka’s driving because that’s just the way things work when you truly value your life.  
  
"An out?"  
  
"Let me rephrase. _I_ need an out.” Helena arches a brow at her wife and Myka glances back at her because she knows she’s doing that thing where she pretends not to know what Myka is talking about, but she knows what Myka is talking about. As always, Myka elaborates anyway, “So that when I am one hundred percent _done_ with this ridiculous plan, you know that I am one hundred percent _done_ with this ridiculous plan.”  
  
"Oh, Love." Helena laughs. "Just give me that look you always give me whenever you are one hundred percent _done_ with me and my so-called ridiculous plans. You know the one.”  
  
Myka gives her wife _that_ look.  
  
"Yes, that’s it. Glad that’s settled then."  
  
  
  
Upon arriving to the restaurant, Helena leans close to her wife, and sets a kiss to her cheek before smiling that mischievous smile that Myka tends to love for what it is but not for what it tends to precede. Still, Myka smiles, too.  
  
"We need this." Helena offers.  
  
Myka let’s out a small puff of laughter and her smile grows. “I’m not sure we need _this_ but we definitely need _something_.”  
  
Helena bites her bottom lip, eyes falling to her wife’s long and exposed legs beneath a dress that has ridden too far up, if too far had been an actual thing. Or it had been a thing for Myka, judging by the way she was failing in her attempts to pull the dress back down over her thighs.  
  
Helena’s only complaint is the number of months that have passed since the last time her lips touched those thighs. She’s been filing grievances with Myka for weeks over the lack of intimacy and they have mostly gone unanswered. So Helena has reached her absolute end and when Helena reaches her absolute end, she takes to forming ridiculously ingenious plans.  
  
"I love you." Helena says when her eyes have trailed their way back up to Myka’s. And Myka averts her eyes and sighs, with the barely-there remnants of the smile from moments ago.  
  
"I love you, too."  
  
But she doesn’t look at Helena. Instead, her eyes fall to her hands, now busy in her lap.  
  
That’s Helena’s cue.

  
  
Jason is just some guy who likes to talk about himself and his money and his Porsche, Myka learns this quickly enough and learns, even more quickly, how to tune out whatever frequency his voice seems to be operating on.  
  
This makes it easier for her to focus on where her wife sits with an _actually_ attractive guy that Myka is actually _really_ jealous about.  
  
Normally, Myka wouldn’t dream of using her phone at the dinner table, but desperate times.  
  
M: Why do you get the cute Black hipster?  
H: My plan, my hipster.  
M: This guy is so full of himself that he doesn’t even know I stopped paying attention to him an hour ago.  
H: We’ve only been here for fifteen minutes.  
M: Exactly!  
H: Be civil.  
M: If a waitress actually decides to come take my order, I will consider it.  
H: Hangry?  
M: No, I am a step above Hangry. I am Pete after a five hour flight where all they serve is salted peanuts.  
H: So, it’s serious then?  
M: Not even honey roasted peanuts!  
  
And then Helena’s text messages stop.  
  
M: Finally ordered.  
M: What are you drinking?  
  
Because Myka can’t stop looking back to Helena’s table.  
  
M: Helloooo? Wife?!  
  
Myka hears that their conversation has turned academic and eventually succumbs to her abandonment. At least for a while.  
  
Then she hears it. Without even having to train her ear on the other table, she hears the laughter. Helena’s laughter.  
  
Helena’s genuine fucking laughter.  
  
Myka turns. She glares. But when Helena’s head falls back with that laughter and when Helena turns slightly to meet her wife’s glare and when Helena smiles and winks at Myka, something happens.  
  
Myka’s cheeks flush, her heart beats faster, her breath catches, and she feels that thing that she hasn’t felt in over a year because she’s been so goddamn caught up in everything about _her_ life and nothing about _their_ life.  
  
For the first time that hour, Jason says something that Myka can not only relate to, but actually offer an opinion on.  
  
"She’s hot."  
  
"No." Myka immediately corrects him. "She’s beautiful." And Myka doesn’t say this part out loud, but she thinks,  And she is my wife.  
  
M: Done!  
  
Helena doesn’t have time to read the text before Myka is throwing her napkin down on the table, excusing herself, and walking toward the exit. When she passes her table, Helena knows.  
  
It is time to go.

  
  
In several hours, Helena will smile triumphantly while exploring all of the many inches of Myka’s body. And Myka will thank Helena in waves so profound that she thinks the neighbors, with their small army of shit-tossing heathens, might actually consider moving.  
  
And Helena will wake up the next day and she’ll go on her run, and she’ll run into Jason and his partner Michael, the enigmatic black hipster, and their two little ones on a walk in the park. She’ll try to say thank you but she won’t be able to stop grinning and then she won’t be able to stop crying.  
  
But they’ll understand. They _get_ it.  
  
And the smile that Helena wears, the smile that is almost as bright as her newly polished wedding ring, that smile will be thank you enough.  
  



End file.
